Nepotism for a Cause
by Alaina Locksley
Summary: Madam President, Stevie, and Andrada, Oh My! What happens when everyone's least favorite, would-be despot makes an appearance at the White House?


**Disclaimer:** No one but the beautiful creators of the Madam Secretary own it. I'm just playing around in their universe a bit. Please note, all characters in my stories are fictional and are not meant to resemble real people.

**A/N:** Thank you, everyone, for your support for Of Secrets and Schemes! I'll be updating it next. I just had to get this mini-ficlet out of my head first.

**Summary:** Madam President, Stevie, and Andrada, Oh My! What happens when everyone's least favorite, would-be despot makes an appearance at the White House?

**Nepotism for a Cause**

The event hall buzzed with post-dinner conversations. Reds and blues graced the centerpieces as Senators, Representative, and diplomats schmoozed and negotiated under the White House chandeliers. The guest of honor, the president of the Philippines, demonstrated a few kickboxing moves at the head table for the press. Stevie shook her head, puffing out a laugh at his antics. A lot could be said about President Andrada, but at least his state dinners were amusing, not at all like the French. Jay was right, their minister was very much an empty crepe along with the rest of the usual contingent.

She scanned the room, noting Russell's conversation with Vice President Morejon. His face was turning the special shade of red it always did right before he used to storm her way and demand coffee, pastries, or something else his wife ordered her not to fetch for him. She was suddenly increasingly thankful for her new position at the non-for-profit.

"Right on time," she muttered as Russell, true to form, stormed off, this time beelining straight for Nina. Sending his new assistant a silent good luck, she let her attention shift to her mother, manning the spot at the center of the head table. Madam President, Stevie was still trying to get used to it.

The position suited her, she was proud to admit. Her mother's presence filled every room she entered since Stevie was a child. In her humble opinion, the title was made for her. Still, at the moment, the crown seemed heavy to her well-honed mom-radar. The tension seemed to radiate off her mother in waves. She doubted anyone other than her siblings or her dad would notice, but it was there, just below the surface, since the dinner started… Or really since President Andrada entered. She wondered if there was an issue with their negotiations earlier. For the sake of her hard-won meeting with him later, she hoped not.

Her organization spent the last few months battling for an audience with the Filipino President. The number of climate change refugees continued to grow, and they hoped to use the Philippines as a sort of way station for the brunt of the migration. The president outright refused to respond… until one of the workers let slip that POTUS's daughter worked for them.

Stevie sighed. She thought she left the nepotism behind when she moved on from the White House. It seemed she'd never be rid of it as long as her mother held office.

Regardless, the slip gave the organization a much-needed foot in the door. President Andrada agreed immediately. Not only did they have a meeting with his administration, but he insisted on attending himself. "Nepotism for a cause," her boss told her before letting out a thrilled laugh. It made Stevie's blood boil, but she toed the line. Refugees needed help, after all.

By the end of the day, the details were ironed out, and she was starting to look forward to an all-expenses-paid week-long trip to the Philippines. The plan was to meet with President Andrada, and if all went well, scout out locations for temporary camps before permanent structures could be built. The trip was set.

It was set until she mentioned it at family dinner that night. She didn't notice the tension as she laid out plans and asked for advice. When she looked back, she wondered at her mother's lack of enthusiasm. Her father's clenched jaw, she chalked up to the questionable ethics of it all.

"Do you really need to travel that far for one meeting?" He asked.

"He requested the location." She shrugged. "Besides, I don't mind spending a week in the tropics." She threw a meaningful glance at the window, half glazed in snow and ice.

"I suppose," her mom said. Stevie's brow furrowed. It almost sounded like she was using her CIA voice. The one she broke out when something was seriously wrong and she didn't want her and her siblings to know. The nuclear scare came to mind. One glance at her mom's carefree smile washed the thought away. "Or you could meet him at his State Dinner next week. A meeting in the White House would give you a home field advantage." She turned to her dad, "Home team advantage?"

He let out an easy laugh and gave her hand a comforting squeeze, some of the tension in his jaw bleeding away. "Either one."

"Regardless, you would have leverage going into the meeting, and you would save the organization a considerable amount in expenses."

Stevie stared at her parents, her dream for a mini-work vacation slowly seeping away. "Wouldn't that be… I don't know, abusing my position or something?" She shot a hopeful look at her dad.

He shrugged. "You already used it to get the meeting. You might as well bring the might of the White House with you."

Her mouth fell open. She assumed he wouldn't put up much of a fight, but to actually encourage… "Dad, are you feeling OK?"

He let out a chuckle. "Look, there's a Hindu Proverb," Stevie and her mom groaned, "There's a Hindu proverb that says, 'Help thy brother's boat across and lo! Thine own has reached the shore.' If we let these refugees sink, humanity will be adrift. I say you should use everything you have in your arsenal."

"Fine," Stevie drug the word out, "I'll talk to everyone tomorrow. Mom, should I have them contact Blake to arrange things?"

She thought she caught a hint of relief in her eyes. Weird. "Yes, that'll work."

Stevie shook herself from the memory and ran a quick mental check through her talking points for later. She was nervous and suddenly very thankful to be on familiar ground. The meeting had to go well. Thousands counted on her. She took a second to admire her mother. This must be how she felt all the time. She made a mental note to up the ante on her Mother's Day present this year.

"Hey, Stevie." Kat appeared behind her. "The room's ready if you want to go set up."

She turned and shot Kat a smile. "Lead the way." It was time.

~*~*~

_1 Week Earlier_

"The nerve!" Elizabeth pounded a pillow before tossing it into a nearby chair. "Did he really think we'd let her go?"

Henry stood, toothbrush in hand, taking his frustration out on his teeth. "I don't know babe," he said around the toothpaste. The thought of his baby girl in the same room as that.. man… made him want to punch something. "He's unhinged."

"I mean, I knew I would still have to work with him, at least until he lost the next election or was booted out, here's to rooting for the second, but this?" He heard an edge break into her CIA voice. She wouldn't be able to hold it together much longer. He spit, trying to control his own emotions, wiping the sink with more force than necessary. "I should have let Dalton approve the coup."

The wobble in her voice told him before he saw it. She was curled up in their bed, the first tear tracking its way down her cheek.

He clenched his fist and took a breath, drawing on his pilot's training to find his center. They didn't let loose cannons fly fighter jets, so he learned to control himself early on. Carefully, he climbed into bed, pulling her against him. He needed the comfort as much as she did.

"It's OK," he said into her hair, "She'll be here. We'll send Matt into the room with her."

"I'll be in the room with her." Elizabeth said around the crack in her voice, firm, vulnerable. He pulled her tighter. He didn't want either of them in the room with Andrada.

"Can you?" The issue was below the purview of the office of the President of the United States. It should have been below Andrada's.

"I will," her back stiffened, stubbornness setting in, "If Russell has an issue with it…" He could picture her biting her lip, battling between good politics and good mothering. "She's won't be alone."

_Like she was,_ rang in the silence. He thanked God for her right hook.

"The broken nose jokes have started up again," she mumbled into her pillow, her tears drying up. She never was one to cry for long.

"Has Russell's desktop background made a reappearance?"

"Probably." She sighed. "I feel ridiculous that it bothers me. Nothing really happened."

He stiffened, anger boiling below the surface. "Other than an international incident." His voice was soft, measured, begging for her to stop blaming herself.

She scoffed. "That I caused."

"That he caused."

She hummed, unconvinced.

"If he touches her, I'll break more than his nose."

He rubbed her arm. If Andrada touched either of them, he'd borrow a jet. He was sure Gordon wouldn't mind. After all, he had an in with the Commander and Chief.

~*~*~

_Present_

The noise in the hall throbbed against Blake's aching head. His tux hugged him as he stood at the President's side, every button in place, every line sharp and tailored. He bent to mumble the next meeting time in her ear. "Roosevelt room in five minutes, Ma'am."

He caught her attempt at a smile. It didn't reach her eyes. "Thank you, Blake."

He straightened and took a step back, sparing a glare for the Filipino President. The State Dinner had everyone on edge from the beginning. The staff fell into two camps, those who joked, and those who worried. Blake worried.

The first visit to the Philippines was a disaster. He could still remember the way the President's face fell when he informed her that the military was there to escort them out of the country. Her words, an idea to grovel and beg Andrada on behalf of the country, as he walked in still rang in his ears. He was happy she broke his nose.

The second visit was last minute, disrespectful but short. In the end, it was enough. The President was able to negotiate for the dead soldiers' return. It was a win, but break room talk didn't notice.

Blake was pouring the last of the water over the coffee grounds when they entered. He stood in the corner with his back turned, allowing them to easily overlook him. The Secretary would arrive at any moment, and he didn't want to waste time with small talk. He turned to toss the dirty filter in the trash.

"Do you think she broke his nose again?" One of the men asked. Blake rolled his eyes. He didn't recognize them. They probably snuck on the floor to snag some of his coffee, something that was occurring more often after Daisy's tryst with Budget and Planning Guy. He may have started coming for the Seattle coffee beans, but he stayed for Blake's brew. Daisy may have had something to do with it, too.

"Really, that was true? I thought someone was messing with me," the other replied as they made their way to the half-empty carafe across the room. Blake was happy he thought to brew another as he poured a cup for the Secretary and himself.

The first guy laughed. "I was here when it happened. It was definitely true. They almost kicked the military out over it."

"Over a botched ass grab?"

"Boggles the mind, doesn't it?"

Blake's ground his teeth as he finished pouring. Didn't they have anything better to gossip about?

"Do you think it really happened?" Blake froze.

"What?"

"Well, would a President really kick an ally's military out over the Secretary defending herself?" Disbelief spread through Blake like ice. "More likely, she overreacted and lashed out. There's got to be more to the story."

"I guess… I mean, I hate to say this, but did you see what she was wearing to her meeting with the Russian ambassador? If she was wearing something like that, maybe the President thought she-,"

"What?" Blake spun, furious, shocking the other occupants into silence, "No, don't let me stop you. What do you think Saint Andrada thought she wanted?"

Blake stalked the few steps necessary to stare them down, silently thankful for his natural height. "Tell me, do you randomly grab women wearing nice clothing?"

"N-no," they stuttered, surprised to be facing the Secretary's assistant.

"Then what makes you think it would be an acceptable response for someone else?" He watched their mouths fall open and close a few times before swiping the coffee mugs from their hands and pouring the contents down the drain. "This is my coffee," he said collecting the two carafes juggling them with his mugs, "I suggest you brew your own on your own floor."

He stormed out making a note to track them down later and revoke their floor access.

Blake stared as the Filipino President flirted with one of the journalists champagne in hand. The noise in the hall continued to pound into his head as his nerves frayed.

~*~*~

POTUS stood from the table and started for the Roosevelt room. She could practically feel the vibrations from Blake's nerves follow in her wake. It made her jumpy.

"Blake, I really need you to not freak out on me, right now." She shot him a short smile as they left the main event hall.

"Sorry, Ma'am."

"Really, it's just a meeting." She laughed through her nerves.

"Yes, Ma'am." He was a tough crowd tonight. As they got closer, a conversation with Henry flashed through her mind.

"Just tell her," he said, "Maybe she'll cancel the meeting."

She sent him a look. Stevie was too much like her, stubborn and headstrong when it was for a good cause. It was why she got along so well with Henry, and why they tended to butt heads more often than not. She wouldn't cancel the meeting.

"Right, well, at least she would be prepared." Henry was right, she should tell her, but how?

As she walked down the hall, Blake's nerves eating at her back, she wished she'd found a way. Who knows, maybe everything would go as planned and all this worrying would be for nothing. Clicks and flashes filled the walkway behind them. They turned in time to see President Andrada leave the event hall sending one last wave to what he imagined were his admirers. Her stomach twisted. She imagined him with a nose splint, and it eased.

"Elizabeth," he slurred walking mostly in a straight line to her and Blake. Matt and the other DS Agents shifted in her peripherals. She sent a silent thank you for their presence.

"It's Madam President," she corrected, allowing ice to deliver the message.

"Of course." He dismissed her, turning to Blake. "I am on my way to discuss refugees with the First Daughter. Can you point me in the correct direction?" The words were slow in his stilted, overly pronounced accent. They were innocent, the tone wasn't.

Blake threw her an uncertain glance. "You can come with us," she said with forced enthusiasm.

"Oh." he frowned. "Are you heading that way?"

"I'm in the meeting." She smiled, a lioness baring her teeth.

~*~*~

Stevie checked, double-checked, and triple-checked her slides. The meeting had to go well. They needed President Andrada's cooperation. She still couldn't believe he agreed to meet with her, even if it was just because of her mom. She flipped back through a couple of slides, speeding through the memorized words one last time.

The door opened and there he… there they were. "Blake, Mom? What are you doing here?"

"That's… what I asked." President Andrada slurred, pronouncing each word with inflection. Stevie stared at the man thousands of refugees depended on, her mouth dropping open.

"We're going to crash the meeting," her mom said slipping fully into her CIA voice as a couple of DS Agents followed into the room. Stevie's brow furrowed as they set up sentry in the corners of the room. Shaking the mystery away for the moment, she glanced at Blake and sent a meaningful look at the half-lidded Filipino President leaning against the table a few feet from her. 'Is he drunk?' She asked with her eyes.

He mouthed, "So drunk," back. Great. She looked back at her slides wanting to quit, wanting to cry. A child, hungry and crying, stared back from a makeshift raft. She had to try.

She cleared her throat, trying to catch President Andrada's eye. When she did, she was almost sorry. There was something off-putting about having his attention.

"As you know," she began, "The climate crisis has grown exponentially over the past few months…"

She flew through her prepared material. The weeks of practice lent her perfect pitch and flow from beginning to end. The facts came easy and the benefits hit home. All of it, every choreographed word and phrase agonized over for weeks, fell on deaf ears.

His eyes watched her, he nodded when it was appropriate, but he ignored every word she said. His eyes tracked her lips, dipping to her chest when he nodded. By the end, she wasn't even sure he understood English.

She wanted to glance at her mom to see if she noticed, but it was too embarrassing. A stray thought floated through her mind as she finished. Was that why her mom, Blake, and two DS Agents were there? Was this how her mother's meetings with Andrada always went? Her mind wandered to the Creep Sheet that circulated around the White House when she was there warning the junior staff who to avoid. Every time it crossed her desk, she was thankful not to have any entries to add.

"So as you can see, Mr. President," she finished, forcing herself not to clench her jaw as his eyes dipped to her chest again, "Allowing refugees to use the Philippines as a way station before finding permanent accommodations, would not only benefit the refugees themselves but the Filipino Economy, as well."

Silence filled the room as they waited for him to reply. He was back to staring at her lips. Her mom cleared her throat from her spot against the wall behind him. He shot her a petty glare.

"Yes, thank you, Stephanie. May I call you Stephanie?" She opened her mouth to reply.

"You'll call her Miss McCord," her mother interrupted. They exchanged another glare. Stevie wanted to shrink into her shoes, anything to make the meeting end.

"I must say _Madam President_," he mocked the title, "As interesting as your daughter is, I found our first meeting much more satisfying."

Her mom's eyes flashed. Her back stiffened. Stevie's brow furrowed as the DS Agents shifted. She shot Blake a questioning glance, but he didn't notice. His face was covered with a fury that looked misplaced. She wasn't sure she'd ever seen him mad before.

"Perhaps, you should remember what was said during the second." Her mother's words sliced the air. Andrada's face clouded.

He slammed a fist into the table, petulant. The DS agents shifted a step closer, "My nose was broken in a sparring accident."

"Sure, it was." Stevie watched a carefully crafted smirk cross her mom's face. She sent an oblivious Blake another confused glance.

Andrada blustered, anger choking his words at the source. He turned to stare straight at her. "Your daughter," he seethed, "is quite convincing. I believe we'll need another meeting to discuss her aid package."

"Refugee proposal," Stevie corrected automatically, her mouth forgetting she was trying to disappear.

"Right." he smiled. Her skin crawled. "Refugee proposal."

He took a drunken step toward her. It happened faster than she expected. Surprised, she jumped back… directly into the presentation stand. It toppled dangerously, the stem holding the white sheet for the projector swayed from side to side until choosing a direction to fall. The final picture of refugees waved as their screen disappeared and landed directly on top of President Andrada.

Stevie's hands found her mouth. Her first instinct was to help him, her second was to avoid him. She listened to the latter. It seemed the rest of the room agreed. They watched as he clambered out from under the tangled mess of projection screen and metal, his hand grasping his nose.

"You!" He slurred through blood and booze. Stevie wasn't sure if he was referring to her or her mom. "You'll regret this."

"Oh no," her mom said the hint of a genuine smile cracking across her face, "I don't think I will, and look at that, no Cobra in sight. I wonder who you'll blame this time." She took a step toward him leaning into his personal space, "If you ever go near my children again, a broken nose will be the least of your worries." She leaned back, giving a once over to ensure he understood. Stevie watched as she nodded to herself, convinced. "Matt, would you and Joe escort President Andrada to some first aid, please? It looks like he may have had a sparring accident."

Stevie stared as the DS Agents helped Andrada from the room, his glare never leaving her mom. The door clicked shut, her mind filling with helpless refugees, second only to whatever happened at her mother and Andrada's first meeting.

"So," she broke the silence, "Was that a yes?"

~*~*~

It took Elizabeth a second to regain her composure. She was angry, her nerves were frayed, and she still had two days of negotiations with Andrada to look forward to. At least after this little display, she would have more leverage. His ego truly was his greatest weakness.

Stevie's question surprised her out of her musings. She couldn't believe she almost forgot why they were there. Her heart crumbled. All of the work her daughter put into the presentation wasted. She should have found a way to warn her sooner, but a small part of her held out hope that everything would go smoothly, that Andrada would behave himself…

"Oh baby, I'm so sorry," Elizabeth turned apologizing to her oldest daughter, "I'll talk to him tomorrow. It shouldn't be hard to convince him after his little fight with the projector screen."

"What? No," Stevie's outraged voice filled the room. Elizabeth was afraid to meet her eyes and see yet another failure with President Andrada reflected there. "You can't meet with him. He's horrible."

Surprised, she met her daughter's gaze. The anger she feared was absent, only compassion looked back. Elizabeth let out a soft laugh, "It's my job, honey." She could see a million questions dancing behind her daughter's tongue. "Blake, can you give us a minute?"

"Yes, ma'am." She watched Blake give Stevie and encouraging nod before leaving the room, letting the door close softly behind him.

"Are all of your meetings like that?"

She turned taking in the disgust gracing her daughter's face. "No, not all of them. Andrada is… well, he's… eccentric." Forever the diplomat would be engraved on her tombstone.

"He's disgusting."

"That too." She nodded. Maybe not so much engraved as written… in pencil… with erasers nearby.

Silence fell across the table, she could see the question sitting between them. She wondered who would be brave enough to say it first.

"Mom, what Andrada said… what happened during your meeting?" Stevie always was the brave one. She realized she was staring down at her hands. Sighing, she looked up, meeting her daughter's gaze.

"Stevie, some men you should never turn your back to…"

"And you turned you back?"

Elizabeth nodded. "Then I broke his nose."

Stevie let out a surprised laugh. "I'm not surprised." She sighed glancing back at her presentation. "Is that why he agreed to meet with me?"

"Stevie, you should be proud of what you put together. The presentation was effective, precise, and factual. With anyone else, it wouldn't have been a question."

"But that was why he agreed to meet with me."

Elizabeth didn't want to lie, so she stayed quiet. Stevie scoffed.

"I feel like such a fool. What am I going to do?"

"No, don't do that. I told you. I'll meet with him tomorrow. Maybe nice and early to check on his hangover. It would only be polite."

A smile grew across Stevie's face, and she reveled in it. "Have Blake drop something extra loud for me, OK?"

Elizabeth pulled her daughter into a hug, pressing a kiss against her temple. "You bet."

~*~*~

_Epilogue_

A girl, not a day over nine, watched as their boat drifted closer to land. The captain announced to the people crowding the decks that they were approaching the Philippines. She smiled.

She liked the captain. He gave her a flower when she boarded. "It's blue and white for your new home," he explained, "All you need is some red." She was sure to thank him again when she followed her parents onto land.

The camps weren't the best, but they had clean water and food. It was better than the weeks they spent battling floods and rain back home. Her bed was actually dry here. She was almost sad to see it go when they boarded the plane, almost.

The flight was long, and she got bored with the inflight videos after the third movie. Her dad told her to try to sleep but it was useless. Everything was too uncomfortable.

Suddenly, someone poked her awake. "Sweetie, take a look," her mom whispered into her hair. She turned her blurry eyes from her mom to the window. In the distance sat a sight she'd only read about in her school books. The Statue of Liberty stood proud against the harbor's tides bringing wayward ships safely to port.


End file.
